from afar, but was it the sound of a human voice, or the murmurs of the wavelets lisping a love-song to the sandy shore?
She thrust her fingers through her wavy golden hair, and asked herself whether she was dreaming or awake? She listened again, the song was louder and nearer, yes it was there, under her very windows. The voice was calling her, resisting it was useless, she had to go, but whither?
There was now a slight sound; she did not hear it, the door was opened, she took no notice of it. All at once the poodle that slept in her aunt's room, stood on its hind legs, licking his chops, wagging his tail, looking at her with lewd wondering questioning eyes.
She did not see the dog.
Now she felt herself as in the midst of a strong draught, in the very centre of an impelling current. She yielded, she got down from her bed. Her chemise—the ribbons of which had got undone—fell to her feet. The poodle—always on its hind legs—advanced towards her, his prick was stiff and stark, and the turgid
37
